


I Can Do That

by wordyanansi



Series: Bellarke Fic Week - July 2015 [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, Bellarke Fic Week, F/M, Future Fic, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:45:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordyanansi/pseuds/wordyanansi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing is the same when Clarke gets back. Or for anyone after the Mountain. </p><p>So they go to the ocean, and Clarke thinks home might be someone rather than somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Do That

The ocean is not what they were expecting.

The first night they spend sleeping on the sand, the ocean in front of them and the treeline behind them. They sleep under jackets and blankets around a bonfire that Monroe and Jasper had spent four hours arguing about. The stars seem brighter, and the air is colder. There is a sense of freedom that is reminiscent of their first moments on earth, when they felt free, exuberant, and hadn't yet discovered they weren't alone.

Clarke wanders down the beach alone, drifting away from her people, her friends. It is not her first time on the beach, but she hasn't told anyone that. She hasn't told anyone a lot of things. She's been back for longer than she was gone now, but there is still distance there. Distance she knew would always be there. She'd left because she didn't think she could could handle seeing them, knowing what she'd done to protect them. But in the end it hadn't mattered. She was known everywhere she had walked, the Heda kom Skaikru flosh Moun-de klin; the Sky Commander who defeated the Mountain. And at night when she thought about the ghosts that followed her, the body count of her actions, and the things she truly regretted, she found that she regretted leaving Bellamy outside the gates of Camp Jaha the most. In the space of a fortnight she broke more promises than she had time to make to him, and it ate at her too. She could right this wrong. But going back had not been so easy. He'd been cold and distant at first, and they'd fought like it was their first week again. Raven told her to give it time, she'd left, she'd abandoned all of them, but he felt it the most. And that was his right. He'd been there too. It was enough that she felt it a small miracle when he'd come to her and told her they were leaving and invited her to join them.

“Clarke, it’s not working,” Bellamy told her. She froze, looking up at him. Wondering if this was it, he was telling her to leave. But she waited. “They treat us like children and criminals, and we’re not. We’re going to the ocean,” he continued. Clarke nodded.

“I understand,” she said softly. “They don’t hear you.” Bellamy nodded. She paused again. “I’ll start trying organise some medical supplies to take with you. Does Lincoln have a route in mind?” Bellamy stared at her for a moment.

“You… you are coming, right? With us, I mean,” he says, and it’s the closest thing to stammering she’s seen him do. Even in the Mountain. Even at the gate. And he’s got that desperation in his eyes that haunted her for the months she was away. Then she registered what he’d said, and her eyes widened and the she looked at him properly.

“Oh. You… You want me to come with you?” Clarke asked. He ducked his head and shrugged.

“You’re our healer,” he replied, and something fell in her stomach.

“Oh,” she said again. “Lincoln’s pretty good, and Harper and Monty have made a great herbal remedy team.” You don’t need me, she wanted to tell him. You don’t need me. She saw his jaw work, and he looked at her again.

“You’re our princess,” he says after a moment, trying to make her understand something, but it was just words, to her, just words that reminded her of Finn and Anya on the bridge, and a million other things she’d done.

“I don’t think you’re going to need a princess, where you’re going,” Clarke says slowly. It’s the closest she’s come to telling anyone anything about where she was or what she’d done while she was away.

“Fine, you want to hear me say it? I want you with us, Clarke,” Bellamy tells her stiffly. Clarke is almost gaping at him.

“You want me,” she repeats softly, not quite daring to believe it.

“Yes,” he says shortly. “In or out?” It’s not much, really, in the scheme of things. But it’s more than olive branch.

“In,” Clarke answers definitively. And she wonders why she feels like she’s home, finally, even though she’s been at Camp Jaha for month.

Bellamy finds her, sitting in the sand, hidden behind a rock formation from the light of the bonfire. He stares at her for a moment wordlessly.

“I thought you were gone,” he said quietly. Clarke smiled and shook her head.

“No,” she replied. “I just… Sometimes it’s too much. I just needed some air.” Bellamy nodded, but he didn’t move, hesitating. Clarke inclined her head, gesturing to the space beside her, and he moved to to join her. They sit side by side, staring out into the night sky and the blackness of the ocean.

“It’s colder than I was expecting,” Bellamy offers. “I’m pretty sure one of those idiots is going to end up taking a night swim and dying of hypothermia.” Clarke huffs, a sound almost like laughter, and smiles.

“Jasper,” she offers. Bellamy shakes his head.

“Nah, Mel, probably. Or either Jones or Glen. They seem to be competing for Monroe’s attention, trying to show each other up,” Bellamy says softly. Clarke nods, and then frowns.

“I thought Monroe wasn’t into guys?” she said. Bellamy scoffed.

“She had a drunk one night thing with Jasper. While you were… anyway. So now these idiots think they have a shot with her,” Bellamy explains, and Clarke nods. And then, because they’re on the subject and she is a masochist:

“How about you? Which ladies are throwing themselves at your feet at the moment?” Clarke asks, trying to sound like she’s teasing, but Bellamy doesn’t laugh, he just looks straight ahead. She’s worried that she’s said too much or gone too far, but she doesn’t know how to backpedal, really.

“When we first landed, I did a lot of things wrong,” Bellamy says after a moment. “You made me realise people weren’t disposable down here, that we were all each other had. After that it just… I wasn’t the same.” Clarke swallows thickly. She remember sitting by the fire after Lexa had killed Gustus, remembered the look in his eye when he said ‘he’d do anything to protect her, it just made sense’. Remembers Octavia’s glare at her when she’d sent him off to the Mountain alone. She licks her lips.

“I’m sorry, you know,” she whispers. “I said you wouldn’t be alone.”

“I wasn’t,” Bellamy replies, his voice equally soft. “Lincoln got me to the door, Maya and Echo got me out of the draining, and there were others. And you were there, in the end. I knew you would be.” Clarke swallows and tries to ignore the tears welling in her eyes, willing herself not to cry.

“And then I left you,” she breaths. “And I’m… I’m sorry for that too. But I… It wasn’t you, Bellamy. I just couldn’t…” her voice trails off, and she forces herself to watch the push and pull of the ocean, focussing on it instead of the turmoil inside.

“I was so angry at you,” Bellamy offers. “You left and we were meant to…” Bellamy’s voice trailed off. There’s half a dozen possible ends to that sentence, but Clarke lets it rest. Bellamy doesn’t say anything else.

They sit together in silence, watching the ocean for a little longer. Clarke can feel the warmth of him, despite the cooling down of the air.

“It’s colder by the ocean,” Clarke offers after a while. “It’s fine for tonight, but if we’re building we need to go back behind the treeline.” Bellamy nods.

“I don’t know if we should make the treeline a fence and weave reed and leaves between the trees, or if we should make a clearing further back,” he replies. Clarke hums softly.

“There are some people I met, the ailonon, and they had a clearing further back from the treeline. So if someone was walking along the beach they wouldn’t know their home was there unless they went looking for it,” Clarke offers. Bellamy stares at her, and she swallows and ducks her head.

“I always wonder where you went,” he tells her. “I wonder where you went and what you learned and if you…” He lets his sentence sit unfinished, but Clarke thinks she knows what he was going to say.

“I missed you,” she says, honesty ringing in her voice. “Every day.” He’s still staring at her.

“I know why you had to leave,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d… I thought maybe you would want to stay at Camp Jaha. Not to have to see us.” Bellamy drops his eyes to his hands in his lap. Clarke smiles and nudges him with her shoulder.

“What we did… Everything we’ve done. You said it doesn’t define us, but I think it does. Just… not in the way I thought it did when I left. Do you remember Raven’s radio?” Clarke asks. Bellamy scoffs.

“Yeah, I’m going to forget that day,” he says sarcastically, and Clarke knocks his shoulder again, but he’s smiling, and so is she.

“I keep thinking about what I said. That you’re not a murderer, you’re just a guy trying to save his sister. And I think… I think that’s what we are. What we’ve done defines us. But not as murderers or criminals. As leaders and caretakers. It’s… I never want to do it again. Any of it. But I would. And it’s because I love them,” Clarke says softly. It’s what brought her home, thoughts like these, and what made her stay when it wasn’t easy, and what led her to this beach.

“It’s not easy being in charge,” Bellamy replies, just as softly, quoting words she said to him what felt like a lifetime ago. She smiles, but it’s sad and soft.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be in charge again. But I want to be here for them if someone needs to… Float it, I did the worst things I ever did to protect them, and I hate myself for having done it. But, I can do that. For them. For you. And I like who being around them, being friends with them, makes me. And I missed you,” Clarke says, her voice getting louder and more impulsive until that last phrase slips out of her mouth with more conviction than she ever wanted it to. Bellamy is watching her face, and she can see him swallow thickly.

“What you’re saying is, you’re staying. Here. With me, I mean, with us,” Bellamy says, slowly, asking for clarification. Clarke shrugs and smiles sheepishly.

“For as long as you’ll have me,” she replies. He’s still looking at her like he’s missing something, like he can’t figure her out and she wants to ask what he wants or needs, but she doesn’t.

“Octavia said I was stupid for believing you’d come back,” Bellamy says. Clarke scoffs a little and shrugs.

“I didn’t know if I’d ever come back when I left,” she admits. Bellamy works his jaw.

“Don’t leave again,” he says. “Please. I don’t… I can do it without you. I can. But you make me better, Clarke.” She smiles at him, at his earnestness, and his honestly. But she knew it was something she couldn’t promise, as much as she wanted to.

“You make me better too,” she says, and it feels enough like a promise, and he nudges her shoulder and heads back down the beach to the bonfire.

-

In the end, they build their community about fifty yards inland from the tree line, and it’s almost impossible to tell from the beach that it is there. Lincoln tells Bellamy that he’s impressed at the execution, and Bellamy gives him a look that says that his opinion doesn’t matter terribly much, and then turns to beam at Clarke, giving her the credit. She rolls her eyes from where she is helping Monty plot their medicinal herb garden. Octavia catches the exchange and crosses from where she is training guards to Clarke, hooks her arm around her neck and drags her away from listening ears.

“If you leave him again, I’ll hunt you down myself, and it won’t be to bring you back” Octavia tells her fiercely. Clarke frowns, but she isn’t even confused for a second.

“I have no plans to leave,” she replies, but it’s probably not as reassuring as she thinks it’s going to be, because Octavia pushes her shoulders, but Clarke braces on one foot and doesn’t stumble backwards. She doesn’t miss the flash of approval in Octavia’s eyes at her stance.

“He loves you, he trusts you, and you left him. He’d do anything for you and you just leave him. You risked his life and he still has nightmares about it. So don’t break his heart again or I will tear yours from your chest,” Octavia snaps. Clarke drops her shoulders back and raises her eyebrows, and she doesn’t quite know what to say. She doesn’t have a defense for how things happened. And she knows she hurt Bellamy, but she thinks that breaking his heart might be overstating it.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke says, in the end. “But I’m here now. And I’m going to stay as long as I can.” Octavia raises her chin to look down at her, appraising.

“I mean it, Clarke. Don’t break his heart again,” Octavia says, and then stalks back to the group she was meant to be training.

Clarke wanders back to Monty, who has his eyebrows raised in question. Clarke shrugged.

“She thinks I’m going to break Bellamy’s heart,” she offers in explanation. Monty freezes his movement and looks at her face carefully.

“Are you?” he asks. Clarke’s surprised by the question. For the most part, the people here are a community, but everyone refers to “Bellamy and Clarke” as the leaders and the people you need to get permission from or bring complaints to. But there are some people who picked a side. Miller will never ask her for anything, and neither will Octavia or Jasper. But Monty’s always belonged to her, and he’s not asked this kind of question before.

“For someone to break your heart you have to give it to them first,” Clarke tells him, because it feels like the best answer to give. Monty rolls his eyes.

“You have his heart, Clarke. You’ve had it since before Mount Weather. I love you, but I love Bellamy too,” Monty says. “Don’t break his heart.” Clarke wants to argue, but she doesn’t have any response that he’s not going to argue with. And it’s probably a conversation to have with Bellamy, anyway, because his heart is the one in question.

“I’m not intending on it,” Clarke says. “Do we have any ginger root we can use? If not, we need to find some. It’s the best for nausea.” Monty gives her another look before agreeing to change the subject.

The community fire rarely burns all the way out, but almost everyone except those on first watch are in their cabins. But Bellamy and Clarke always stay up later. Clarke tells everyone it is because they’d so busy through the day and they need to check in. And besides, if anyone gets injured, she needs to be able to be there. She hasn’t heard Bellamy defend their late night talks. But she figures he probably says the same things. Tonight, though, there isn’t much to say. The gardens have been mapped, the training is going well, the fishing groups have stopped splashing around in the water and are starting to bring fish back. And the only thing Clarke has on her mind is the matter of whether or not she has his heart, and it seems like a stupid thing to ask him about, so she just stares at the fire and enjoys the feeling of him beside her.

“I saw O attacked you today,” Bellamy says. “Everything okay?” Clark chewed the inside of her lip for a moment.

“She thinks I’m going to break your heart,” Clarke says simply. Because it’s the truth. She feels him tense up beside her, but he keeps looking at the fire. “Monty too, actually.”

“Are you?” Bellamy asks, and his voice sounds casual, but she’s not fooled.

“I told them that someone has to give you their heart before you can break it,” she says softly. “And I didn’t know that you’d given me yours.” She doesn’t look at him, and her tone is light, like his, but she’s wound tightly as well. She’s not even really sure which way she wants this to go. The silence drags out long enough that Clarke is seriously considering running away from this conversation and pretending it never happened.

“You do have it,” Bellamy tells her. “I didn’t… it just kind of happened. I’m not, you don’t have to want it, or anything. It’s just a thing.” Clarke turns to look at his profile, the way the flames are flickering light over his face, the tautness of his body, coiled with stress, and the bobbing of his adam’s apple as swallows. She wants to tell him that he has hers too, and that she won’t break his heart. But it’s been a long time since she believed in ‘happily ever after’.

“I don’t know if I can… I want to. I want to promise you I won’t and to give you mine. But… I don’t have a good track record. I’m just… I can’t tell you to wait for me. But I’m trying to be better and to not think that my love kills people and will only end in disaster. So I’m…,” Clarke’s not sure what she’s saying or how to say it, but it’s a feeling, and it’s something, what she’s offering him. He looks at her, sad smile on his lips, but hope in his eyes. He reaches out and takes her hand.

“I get it,” he tells her. And god, she can see it in his face, he does. “I’m not in a hurry. But… it’s nice to know that you know and you don’t hate it. But I can wait. I can do that for you.” Clarke laughs then, but doesn’t let go of his hand.

“You really need to work on your self esteem issues, Blake, and lose the self loathing. You’re amazing,” Clarke tells him, and he grins.

“I seem to recall you implying I had the opposite problem once upon a time,” he teases her. She shakes her head.

“Nah, I just didn’t know you well enough then. You’re all bravado to cover up your inferiority complex. Which is stupid. Because you’re one of the best people I’ve ever known,” Clarke tells him. He doesn’t say anything after that, just fights a small as he stares back into the fire, and doesn’t let go of her hand.

-

Winter hits them harder by the ocean than it did in Camp Jaha. But Clarke had been meticulously preparing for months, scanning over the notes she’d written in berry juices on the lining of her coat and bag, and praying she hasn’t forgot something that could save a life. But the cold is coming, and there is something about it that makes everyone in camp nervous. They lost twelve people to the cold the previous year, and the wind is sharper here. Bellamy’s been stressed and trying to insulate cabins and find extra pelts before the big game is gone and it’s too late for construction work or hunting. There will always be fish, though, no matter the season, and they won’t starve. The first week after the weather really turns, she’s sitting in the medical hut, drilling Monty, Harper, Lincoln, and Mel on procedures. She can tell they’re not really listening anymore, and could probably recite everything back to her, but she’s still scared. She doesn’t want anyone else to die because of her, because of something she forgot to say or do. And it’s weighing on her heavily. Between her and Bellamy, if the weather wasn’t enough cause for trepidation, their stress would have made everyone nervous.

“Clarke, we know this stuff,” Monty says gently, when she takes a breath. “We know how to protect ourselves from people who are sick, what herbs to use, and where they are stored. It’s going to be okay.” Clarke looks at him and tries to breathe her way into the calmness Monty’s assurances normally inspire. She’s about to say something back with the door to the hut bangs open and Miller’s in the doorway looking terrified. Clarke turns to him, eyes wide and heart stopped.

“Bellamy,” he says, and it’s enough, because Clarke is out the door running to where he was working today, Lincoln hot on her heels. She assumes the others won’t be far behind and she’s glad that if nothing else she’ll have someone to send back for anything she needs, or needs to get ready.

He’s on the ground, and his eyes are closed, and there is a log across his chest. Monroe’s ankle was trapped under the same log, and she was awake and trying not to scream. Clarke took one look at the scene and knew what had happened in an instant.

“He tried to get me out of the way,” Monroe said, unnecessarily. Triage said check the worst patient first, but in some ways down here losing a leg would be worse than losing a life. Thankfully, it wasn’t a choice she had to make.

“Get his vitals,” Clarke snaps at Lincoln, and he’s already on his knees before Clarke turns back to Monroe. “I need to check your blood flow, make sure blood’s still pumping to your toes. Can you wiggle them for me?” Clarke asks Monroe gently. Monroe winces, and tries. She grunts and shakes her head.

“I can still feel them,” Monroe says. Clarke nods.

“I’m sorry, but this might hurt. I’m going to check your pulse on either side,” Clarke explains. Monroe nods and grits her teeth. Clarke sighs with relief when the pulse is the same on both sides.

“It’s probably a break or a fracture. We’ll get this off as soon as we can. But we need you to not move until we assess Bellamy, okay?” Clarke tells her, and Monroe nods, sagging with relief. “Is there anyone you want me to get for you?” Monroe starts to shake her head, but stops herself.

“Mel. Can you get Mel for me?” Monroe asks, shy. Clarke smiles and nods at her.

“Of course,” Clarke says kindly, she looks around the assembled group and singles one out.

“Jones, Mel’s in medical. Go, and get her to bring something to immobilise a break,” Clarke instructs, and Jones nods once before disappearing.

She takes a steadying breath before turning around. Octavia is with the hunting party today, and she knows she should send someone out to bring them back early, but they also need to eat and she can’t do anything here. And he’s not dying, Clarke tells herself. He’s not, he can’t be. So she turns to meet Lincoln’s eyes and he gives her a nod and almost a smile, and Clarke feels like she can breathe again.

“Vitals are stable, but he’s not responding. No bleeding around the head, but I think he knocked himself out. I don’t have much experience but he seems to have restricted breathing, but I think it’s from the log,” Lincoln says. Clarke nods and presses her fingers over his heart, feeling the strong beat. She presses his abdomen, feeling for lumps and watching his skin tone. It’s at moments like this that she misses her mother’s experience, and the Ark’s resources. But they would probably have given up on Bellamy long ago, and she’s never going to be ready to do that. There’s still a risk of spinal damage, and Clarke doesn’t know if she should wake him up or not, or even if they can, before they lift the log. Mel walks passed her and starts speaking to Monroe in hushed tones. Clarke takes another breath, and then looks up to meet Lincoln’s eyes.

“I should get Octavia,” he says quietly. Clarke nods.

“Send someone else. I’m going to need you,” she says softly. “Derek, maybe? He’s quite a good tracker these days.” Lincoln turns away to organise that while Monty crouches down beside her.

“Harper’s staying in Medical to prep,” he says softly. “Are you okay?” Clarke swallows thickly.

“I think… I want to try to wake him up first,” Clarke replies, ignoring the question. “But it probably doesn’t really matter either way. Unless we make a spinal injury worse by dragging him.”

“Clarke,” Monty says softly. She shakes her head.

“We don’t have time for this, Monty,” she tells him, and she leans towards Bellamy and strokes his face. “Come on, Bellamy. Wake up. Wake up. Open your eyes. I need you to open your eyes and talk to me. Please,” Clarke says, and she can hear the tears in her voice, the edge that sounds like begging, and it’s not at all what she wanted to sound like, but Bellamy’s not responding. So she pulls back, swallows down hard and exhales long and low.

“Right,” Clarke says, standing up. “We need to lift the log. It needs to be done as evenly as possible. So it’ll be on three. When the log lifts, Mel, I’m going to need you to immobilise Monroe’s leg as quickly as possible with the splint. Watch her pulse. If it skyrockets, you’re going to need to use poison sumac tea and use the breathing technique I showed you. Lincoln, I need you to check Bellamy’s ribs. Monty, go back to Medical and grab the stretcher. Tell Harper to prep for a lung puncture just in case.” She looks around at the people watching her. They’re all looking at like she knows what she’s doing, like they trust her, even though she’s terrified. She remembers standing under Mount Weather with Octavia, and Octavia shouting. She breathes out through her nose, and notes the people standing at either end of the log.

“We lift on three,” Clarke says. “One, two, three.” And the log rises. Monroe screams and Bellamy gasps for air, still not waking, and the stretcher appears while Lincoln checks the ribs. Clarke looks over to see that Mel has Monroe splinted, and the girl is already looking better, so she drops down beside Bellamy.

“Three broken ribs. Right lung isn’t working,” Lincoln says softly. Clarke nods to indicate her understanding.

“Get him to Medical, now,” she instructs and walks to the hut as quickly as possible.

They arrive almost at the same time, and Harper has prepped perfectly. If Clarke had time, she’d kiss her. Bellamy makes a gurgling sound and Clarke tries not to panic.

“Float it,” she curses. “Collapsed lung.” She goes to work, her hands remembering the procedures from muscle memory while she muttered curses at Bellamy the whole time. “If you die on my god damn table, Bellamy Blake, I swear I will float you. And if you think I’m going to forgive you for this with a charming smile and everything’s fine don’t worry you can go float yourself. Why the hell did you do that? I know why you did that and I would have done the same thing but that is not the damn point,” she mutters. Only breaking in her diatribe to ask for things to be handed to her, or to make relevant medical comments in a slightly louder voice. Her team stay in the room watching her work. It’s a learning experience, sure, but it’s also because it’s Bellamy and Clarke, and one without the other doesn’t seem right, and they’re scared. Clarke’s scared too. And when Bellamy wakes up, he’s going to be scared because she’s going to kill him. Octavia arrives just as Clarke stabilises him, pushing everyone aside to get to her brother.

“Is he going to live?” Octavia asks, fearless. Clarke swallows.

“I think so,” Clarke says. Never make a promise you can’t keep, her mother’s voice in her head. You’re a doctor, not a miracle worker. Octavia looks at her critically for a moment, and then nods, turning back to her brother.

“You stupid asshole,” Octavia begins to tell him, and Clarke leaves the room.

Miller finds her later, down on the beach, hidden behind the same rock formation she sat behind on that first night. He leans against the rocks, folds his arms, and looks down at her.

“Bellamy would kill me if he knew I let you leave without a weapon or backup,” he comments. Clarke tries to laugh, but it doesn’t work, and she waves her dagger at him. He rolls his eyes.

“He likes to come here too,” Miller tells her, angling himself away from her so he can look out to see. Clarke raises her eyebrows, she hadn’t known that. “He says it’s where he figured out that things were probably going to be okay.” Clarke remembers telling him she wasn’t leaving, and wonders if that was what he meant.

“I think he’s going to be okay,” Clarke says softly. Miller nods.

“He’s asking for you,” he says. Clarke starts, and jumps to her feet.

“You couldn’t have led with ‘your patient is awake’?” Clarke asks him, and goes to leave, but he catches her arm. She thinks this is the first time that Miller has touched her since Mount Weather, and she stares at him, frozen.

“Don’t… he’s my best friend. And you’re you,” Miller says. “And you guys are Bellamy and Clarke. I think everyone knows it’s kind of inevitable. But don’t… don’t let your demons keep you away from him forever. He’s got them too. But you’re better together.” Clarke stares at him for a beat, and then he releases her arm, and goes back to staring out to sea. She goes to leave, and then pauses.

“Does anyone tell him not to break my heart?” Clarke asks, curious. Miller does his almost smile and laugh that looks more like a scoff with a wince.

“We don’t need to,” Miller tells her. “He’d do anything for you.” Clarke walks back down the beach, thinking. She almost wishes she didn’t have to face him straight away, so she could have time to process. But the fact is that today she could have lost him. And the same could happen tomorrow. Earth doesn’t come with guarantees. But some things are constant, fixed points that you can set a compass by, or a heart. It’s simple, and honest, and feels too small for how much it means, but she’s going to say it anyway.

Octavia is sitting beside him when Clarke enters the medical hut. The look Octavia gives her is one of thanks and suspicion. Clarke thinks there will always be suspicion there, but forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting, and she’s made peace with that. Bellamy is smiling at her.

“Hey princess,” he teases her, and Clarke can’t help the scowl and folded arms.

“I’m going to leave before people start throwing things,” Octavia says, and pushes past Clarke to the door. Clarke moves to the seat Octavia was using.

“Any fogginess in the head? Sensitivity to light?” Clarke asks, checking his pupils.

“I’m fine,” Bellamy replies, trying to catch her hand, and failing.

“Reflexes are a little off,” Clarke notes. “How is your breathing?” She trails her hands along his sides, feeling the ribs, and he winces.

“It hurts, but it’s okay,” Bellamy says. “I just wanted to-”

“Can you feel my hands here?” Clarke asks, cutting him off, trailing her hands down the outside of his legs.

“Yes. But can you-,” Bellamy tries again.

“Can you move your legs and arms for me?” Clarke asks, and Bellamy complies.

“Stop for a minute and let me-,” Bellamy interjects.

“Press against my hands,” Clarke says, hands at his feet. “And the other way. Good.”

“I want to talk to you-,” Bellamy tries. Clarke takes his hands.

“Can you squeeze for me?” Clarke asks. Bellamy makes a noise of frustration, grips her hands tightly and yanks her down, reaching up with this neck to capture her mouth with his.

“Mmph!” Clarke tried to protest about broken ribs and breathing issues and the importance of testing, but Bellamy let go of her hands and held her cheeks in his hands instead, and she leaned down, kissing him back. She pulls back after a moment, breathless, still leaning over him. Bellamy is grinning and a little out of breath.

“Finally,” he sighs. And Clarke lets out a short laugh and covers her hand with her mouth, staring out him. Bellamy’s expression turned sheepish.

“I could have died today,” Bellamy says. Clarke nods.

“It’s the ground. We could all die any day,” she agrees. “But today was a scary one.” Bellamy nods.

“I just… I didn’t want to die without doing that,” Bellamy adds. “I love you and I’ll wait for you, and I’m not trying to rush you. It’s just that if I’m going to die at any moment it seems like I should live life to the full. And I do. Except for you. And I wanted to-”

“Shut up, Bellamy,” Clarke cuts in, and he looks relieved at having avoided further rambling. She meets his eyes and takes his hand in hers. “I love you and I’m terrified and I thought you were going to die and I was so scared.” Bellamy smiles at her.

“Lincoln said you came up with some very creative plans to kill me if I died on you,” he offers, and Clarke laughs again.

“You’re an idiot,” Clarke informs him. “But… I’d kind of like it a lot if you were my idiot.” Bellamy practically beams at her. He’s got to be agony from the ribs and the headache and she really should finish her examination to make sure he doesn’t have concussion.

“I can do that,” he tells her, happily. And Clarke leans down to kiss him again. He pulls away first this time. “As long as you’re my idiot too,” Bellamy adds.

“Yeah, I think I can do that,” Clarke agrees. “But you’re still going to be stuck in here for at least a week until your ribs start healing.” Bellamy scowled.

“You’re mean. And unfair. You couldn’t have decided you wanted my body before I broke my ribs, could you?” he says petulantly, and Clarke laughs at him again.

“I’m going to get you some pain relief and send Miller in so you can tell him what needs to be done,” she says as she leaves.

“You’re the best, Clarke,” Bellamy calls, and his voice follows her into the community area and worms its way into her heart, and she believes that if she is not, in fact, “the best”, he thinks she is. And it’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Future fics are hard and I didn't want to just fix everything. But it helped me work out some feelings.


End file.
